


Change of plans, change of heart

by MsFlaffy



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 14:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20448665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsFlaffy/pseuds/MsFlaffy
Summary: The thing between them is entirely casual.





	Change of plans, change of heart

The thing between them is entirely casual. Eames can't even say – open, because you just have to follow this word with "relationship", and they aren't in a relationship. They work together sometimes, but the opportunities are erratic and unpredictable, obviously; they shag before or after the job sometimes, if they don't have any other immediate plans. They may not see each other for months, and they never ask nor tell. And it's not like Eames goes out of his way to be hired for certain gigs; not like he's desperate to see Arthur again. Not like he doesn't hook up with anyone else, or, well… It's more than sex, Eames loves working with the best. But. It's not Arthur's Point man skills Eames occasionally dreams about in his vivid, tactile dreams outside of business.   
Arthur shags not like he works, not like he fights – not like he does anything else. He shags with abandon and, Eames is even tempted to say, passion, if this word were suitable for Arthur. Their time together in bed – or wherever the opportunity presents itself, really – is the only time Arthur is open, not hiding behind his perfect visage, human. And even more beautiful for it. He can go for hours: pliant and responsive, reveling in Eames' touch; unyielding, his arm steady on Eames' neck, ordering him not to move a muscle, not to make a sound; all languid, fucked-out smiles afterwards – always changing, flowing from one mood to another, almost like he's the Forger here.  
Thus, it's not surprising that Eames thinks about Arthur between jobs. Remembering some of their moments together, imagining Arthur with other people, trying to guess his type, how he'd behave with someone who's not Eames. They don't throw the casualness into each other's faces, and Arthur is very reserved anyway, so Eames has never seen him with anyone. It's rather… interesting, actually. Entertaining. Sometimes Eames considers offering a threesome, just to test his theories. The images click in his mind like a badly cut film. Arthur, as Eames knows him – fluid, sinful, capable of burning Eames to ashes. Arthur, his strong grip on someone else's thighs, moving between Eames and that other person. Arthur, on top of some girl, her hair splayed all over the pillows, Arthur's muscles rippling beneath his caramel-smooth skin, Eames watching… Watching for everything he can't see when it's him Arthur's on top of.  
Finally, there's a job. A relatively easy one, so Eames gives himself permission to look forward to its successful conclusion, making him a bit richer and allowing some quality alone time with Arthur. Which is, unfortunately, firmly out of the question for now. For now they are partners, not anything else.

One evening Eames wakes from his forging rehearsal and finds the base empty. Apparently, everyone has left early; Eames turns off the lights, shuts the door and goes to the nearest pub.  
Arthur is there, chatting up some girl. He doesn't see Eames come in, so Eames decides to use this perfect opportunity to watch and add some observations to his, well… mental folder on Arthur.  
Sub-header: Arthur as a social creature, Rare and Exclusive!  
Arthur's sitting at the bar, one foot firmly on the floor, the other on the foot rest; shirtsleeves rolled up, a few top buttons unfastened. Strange flickering lights splatter shadows across his skin: moving, breathing shadows, licking and swirling, enveloping him in their caress. He's relaxed, dimpling slightly in response to the girl's words, leaning a bit towards her to show interest. So irresistible with this sly, impish turn of his mouth.  
Eames sees them leaving together, going to her place - sharp, explicit pictures in his mind. Sees Arthur's fingers carding through long hair while he kisses her neck, her shoulder. Something stirs in him, coiling around his heart, tightening its grip, agonizingly slow, seeping coldness drop by icy drop. Eames recoils, flares up and smolders. Suddenly he knows he doesn't want this. Doesn't want to know how Arthur is with others. More than that - he would love to be able to say 'You don't know how he is; no one knows but me.'   
He can't saunter up to them, flirt his way into the conversation and eventually offer to spend the night together, all three of them. He doesn't trust himself at the moment, so he waits for Arthur to excuse himself and follows.  
"Hey," he maneuvers Arthur against the wall, pinning down his wrists but keeping some distance to avoid being head-butted. Probably, Arthur has already recognized him somehow, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.  
"Hey," Arthur is his usual calm and neutral self. No dimples for Eames tonight. "I thought you were working late."  
"Yeah, well. I came to take you home."  
Arthur's brow arches.  
"I'm flattered, Eames, but I already have plans for tonight. As you have, no doubt, noticed".  
"I regret to inform you that your plans have changed."  
"They have?" Arthur is openly amused now.  
"Indeed. And something else has to change as well."  
"Do tell."   
Arthur's voice is disheartening, crystalline, reminding of melting icicles that sparkle in the early spring sun. And Eames can't look away from the unholy curve of his lips. He almost has an afterglow of the perfect shape they formed around that "do" just a few moments ago.  
"Eames?"  
"It's either exclusive or none from now on, Arthur."  
Arthur's pupils flood the iris slowly, like a lazy, unhurried tide, rendering his gaze darker with every second. Eames can't decide whether it's a good or a bad sign. He's not making an offer or suggesting, he's stating – and he doesn't have any arguments to change Arthur's mind, because Arthur already knows all of them and most likely has a few of his own, both for and against. Thus, it is Arthur's decision, and Eames will have to make do, whatever it turns out to be. So he stays calm, not averting his eyes, just waiting.  
"When was the last time," Arthur asks, seemingly weighing every word, "you've been with anyone but me?"  
Eames blinks, has to think… stays silent.  
"Huh," Arthur muses when it's obvious he's not getting any answer. "Never took you for a selfish greedy bastard," and goes on before Eames has a chance to respond. "Never thought you'd be the first to say it."  
They stay silent for a while, then Arthur huffs quietly and allows one of the dimples to peek through, mischievous and promising.  
"Home, Mr. Eames?"


End file.
